


Dreads

by Knights_In_Dented_Armor



Series: The Mage Collective [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Implied/Referenced Torture, Romance, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4819124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knights_In_Dented_Armor/pseuds/Knights_In_Dented_Armor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Companion piece to "Of Reunions and Doubts", where Iron Bull thinks back on his relationship with Mage Lavellan, and how everything came down to one final decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreads

**Author's Note:**

> This is an AU Universe in my head, and I'm writing it purely because I love the idea of all Inquisitors (Trevelyan, Lavellan, Addar, and Cadash) all being involved in the Inquisition, one way or another. Hope you enjoy it, cause I loved writing it.

Qunari didn’t make love. They didn’t fall in love, and they didn’t start families. That was all that he had ever known, and for many years it served him well. Sex was casual, no pressure, and never with the same person twice. Everyone had a good time, left feeling good with no commitments or expectations, and all was well.

Because of that lifestyle, the Iron Bull had a very strict code. He refused to fool around with anyone he would see on a regular basis. That included any clients, and any of his Chargers. “Don’t shit where you eat,” was part of his code. It wasn’t until he joined up with the Inquisition a few months ago that he started reconsidering that code. After all, redheads were always his biggest weakness.

And no, it wasn’t the lovely and seemingly delicate Inquisitor that eventually had him throw his entire way of life off the battlements and into the abyss. Sure she was a redhead, a damn looker too, but she was still Iron Bull’s boss, and he just couldn’t look past that. Not to mention, anyone with an eye could see that there had been something between her and Cullen from the start.

His eye focused on the Dalish Wildling Mage from the moment they met.

His Chargers had ambushed the Vints on the Storm Coast, and were holding their own in a battle where they were clearly outnumbered. Out of seemingly nowhere, a storm of ice appeared overhead, targeting only the Vints while leaving the Chargers with nothing more than a slight chill. Almost exactly at the same time, every one of the Vints were simultaneously seized by a bolt of lightning. Iron Bull had trained his Chargers to take advantage of every bit of distraction, and they didn’t disappoint. Iron Bull made the call that whoever just joined in the fighting was on their side and took the opportunity to cleave a Vint’s head right off.

More Vints surrounded him, and a flash of red whizzed in front of him. An elf that looked nothing like any elf he had ever seen. Long blood red hair in thin dreads with ornamental beads and feathers whipped around a heavily tattooed face. Huge green eyes flashed with a familiar bloodlust that the Iron Bull knew well. Her primitive armor was light and pure leather, meant for quick and easy movement.

Her appearance wasn’t the only thing that was unique; her fighting style was unlike any mage he had ever seen. She used her staff to maneuver herself into a neat spin, kick a few Vints right in the throat. Her staff was used not just as a channel for her magic, but also as a physical weapon. The sharp end of her staff sliced through almost as many people as her magic.

His Chargers formally met her before he did. Dalish and her compared their elven made staffs while Iron Bull discussed their employment with the Herald. By the time he had come to an agreement, his Chargers were cheering her on for saving their casks with magic. There were quick introductions made, but he couldn’t really call that a meeting. Their first official meeting could have gone much better, though it still made him laugh.

In the midst of vividly comparing one of the Chantry sisters and the barmaid he fooled around with to Krem as they shared a drink at the tavern, a snorting laugh cut off him off just as he was comparing their tits to various fruits. She stood next to Sera, who didn’t even bother hiding her brash laugh. Her kohl rimmed emerald eyes danced in amusement and the dark tattoo that crossed over her full sharp bottom lip stretched with her smirk.

“Oh please don’t stop on our account. I’m quite partial to oranges myself.” Iron Bull, having now had a bit to drink and willing to be more brash than normal, didn’t miss a beat. “I can see why, go with what you know,” he said glancing at her chest.

The airy laugh that followed made his grin widen. When she made a terrible pun about how the size of his horns must represent his usual state of mind, he offered her a seat right between him and Krem. Poor Krem, he hadn't stood a chance against the sheer amount of horrible puns that her, Bull, and Sera came up with.

He never called her Ellana like everyone else. He preferred “Elle” just like the Herald used. He liked her from the moment he met her, and gained a good deal of information about her just by observing her. She was a shameless flirt, never passing up an opportunity to make someone blush. It contrasted to the fact that she never invited anyone to her quarters. Her distrust of humans ran deeper than most Dalish elves, and she absolutely loathed the Templars. The sheer force of the loathing surprised him. The one unfortunate time a former Templar tried to make a move on her, she managed to snap his wrist. She probably would have done more damage if the Herald hadn’t stopped her. There was a story behind her distrust and hate, one that Iron Bull would later come to find out was beyond justified.

It was a slow process for her to warm up to other humans, the Herald being the exception, though she had no problem with him or any dwarf or elf. Her guard was almost always up, as if she expected someone to strike at any minute. The way she observed and calculated her next move was almost comparable to his Ben-Hassrath training.

The friendship between Elle and the Herald was actually quite remarkable to witness. There was a deep trust that had been rooted from years of friendship. Elle’s generally indifferent demeanor around humans melted into an almost girlish joy. The two of them laughed openly together, goofing off the way Iron Bull did with his men. To see an official figure like the Herald singing bawdy songs in a tavern with a Dalish Wildling was a sight to behold. No one knew anything more about their history together other than the fact that up until they were teenagers, they grew up in the circle together before something happened that separated them. Neither shared what that event was, and Iron Bull didn’t push it.

Krem was the first human that managed to make her crack her indifferent exterior. His easy going nature and dry wit was enough for Elle to get comfortable fairly quickly. Krem was the gateway to her becoming comfortable with every member of his Chargers. Though he saw her grow more and more relaxed, she stiffened up straight as a board whenever anyone touched her. Iron Bull once placed a hand on her shoulder while laughing at one of her stories and he felt her whole body freeze in place. He was more careful after that.

They kept watch together a few times during the missions. Conversation was easy and entertaining, both regaling the other with stories of their homeland. Iron Bull learned quite a bit about the Dalish Wildlings that were virtually a mystery even to the common Dalish Clans. Her clan lived in the dense jungle North of The Donnarks, along the river that lead to the Volca Sea. They used to live closer to Nevarra until they clashed with Tevinter Slavers. In the jungles, they lived high in the dense trees. The homes and bridges built in the trees rivaled the size of a village. The jungle there was so hostile that rarely did people venture in there, and when they did, they were not greeted warmly at all. The Dalish Wildlings were relentless in protecting their way of life from outsiders.

While keeping watch in the miserable and wet Fallow Mire, he learned that she was one of the elven children kidnapped by Tevinter Slavers. They stole her and a few others while they explored the forest. She had been rescued by Templars before they even reached the Tevinter border. She had already been showing signs of magic, and the Templars took her away from the others. Because of her habit of trying to escape from all the Circle Towers in Nevarra, she was eventually transferred all the way to the Ostwick Circle. The only thing Iron Bull learned about her time there was that was when she met the Herald. He didn’t ask about anything else, and she didn’t offer, though he had his suspicions.

It was also the night he told her about Seheron. Sitting together under the tarp as it stormed around them, she listened patiently and intently, large green eyes luminescent in the firelight. He told her a little more than he intended. It came out easier than he expected, and she listened so closely without judgment or pity. When he finished, they sat in silence for a few minutes. She scooted closer to him, and slipped her small smooth hand into his, squeezing his fingers gently. It was the first time she ever touched him, let alone initiated contact with anyone other than the Herald. For the first time ever, he felt his heart jump in his throat. He wouldn’t admit it then, but that was the beginning of the end for his way of life.

That night was the turning point in their friendship. Elle had finally started showing signs of trust in him outside of the battlefield. When they relaxed in the tavern, she would no longer flinch if he accidently brushed against her or casually put his arm on the back of her chair. There was always flirting and teasing in their banters, but it seemed to have intensified. On the journey to Redcliffe, she actually dozed off on his shoulder. The emotions that clouded his mind put him off in the worst way.

When they got back, he wasted no time in bedding a few of the servants. There was one elf with light red hair, and he couldn’t think of anyone but Elle. His stomach twisted up like a wet dish rag. The fact that Elle didn’t seem affected by the servants or the barmaid made him feel slightly worse about all of it. She would tease him about it the same way she teased Sera or anyone else. He kept it casual on the outside, but his mind was reeling.

After the Herald and the Tevinter mage were thrown into the future and returned, Elle had become more tense. When the Herald returned to Haven with the Rebel Mages, she walked right up to Elle and hugged her tight. It was the type of hug that you give to someone who you thought you would never see again. Cassandra had briefed them all about what happened with the crazy time magic shit. The idea that such a thing was possible made him shudder.

Elle told him the night before the Breach was closed over smoking some weird Dalish herb blend that the time magic messed with the Herald and gave her some crazy nightmares. She was itching for a way to research the effects of that time spell. The openness between them had grown, and he was trying everything he could not to focus how the soft skin of her shoulder felt against his arm.

They had been at a good point until the attack on Haven. For awhile, Iron Bull thought that their relationship had been ruined, but damn it all if he was going to apologize for it. Evelyn had told them to run and not wait for her. None of them wanted to leave her, but it had been her call. She sacrificed herself for them to have a chance, and he had to respect that. Elle hadn’t realized that she would stay behind completely. She had tried to run back, but Iron Bull grabbed her. Oh she fought hard to get out of his grasp: kicked him, punched him, shocked him, but he managed to hold on to her. Her movements were that of a panicked animal.

The anguished cry that escaped her when the avalanche came down and buried Haven was something he would never forget. It was so full of pain that several of the inner circle had stopped to look back. A moment of silence came over the entire camp as they watched the last of the snow completely cover Haven. Iron Bull let Elle go, only to have her sock him right in the gut. “You bastard! How could any of you let her do that?! She did everything she had to! She did everything for everyone and you all just up and let her die!” It was strange to see someone who was usually so calm and cool to be at the edge of hysteria. Grief fell from her as strong as the snow from the sky.

“Let her? She made the choice. She chose to give us the chance to escape.” Cassandra voiced shook a little, though it remained strong. “We shouldn’t waste that chance. We owe it her to have faith that she made it.”

Elle said nothing, a look of cold indifference fell over her face. It was the same look she had whenever she was near templars or too many humans. She disappeared into the middle of the camp. The next time Iron Bull saw her, she was wearing a long fur cloak and walking in the very back of the group, her eyes constantly scanning the horizon. She stayed in the back the whole time, keeping the camp just within earshot.

By the end of the first night, Iron Bull grabbed the blanket he had been using for a cloak and walked over to her and joined her as a lookout. They didn’t say a word, but he took it as a good sign that she didn’t try and fry him again. Her shoulders were rigid and stiff in determination. Every once in awhile, he caught a glimpse of the sorrow that she was trying so hard to hide.

Neither of them slept that night. Iron Bull had started a small fire on the edge of camp, and they both kept watch, wordlessly passing a flask of Brandy between them.

They kept on their vigil for three more nights through the vicious winter storm. They moved at a slow pace due to the storms, and many people had started to resign themselves to the fact that Evelyn didn’t make it. The Inquisition lapsed into a somber state. They were attacked by red lyrium mad Templars, the very order that used to defend them. That order was now led by a monsterous madman who had a dragon. They watched their Herald lay down her life to give them a chance to escape. It was a lot to take in, and with each passing day it become more and more uncertain on what would become of the Inquisition.

Elle refused to even entertain the notion that her friend was dead. When Solas brought up the fact that they needed to start deciding what they were going to do without the Herald’s influence, she threw her mug at him, angrily yelling that he was in no position to call her death official. She cursed him in Elvish, the common tongue, and even used the Qunari curses that Iron Bull had taught her at one point. Venom dripped in every word, and the murderous look on her face ended any more declarations of the Herald’s death. At least around the crazy Dalish Wildling, they were silent.

The fifth evening, the snow storm finally died down and the sun had just set. The Chargers were helping Iron Bull keep the large fire going as food and drink were passed around. Sera, in her unphased way, managed to convince Elle to sit down and eat, claiming that if she passed out from lack of food, no one would help her. “Besides, if you don’t eat it, I will and then my stomach will hurt from the food and I’ll make you carry me.” Though it didn’t get a smile out of her, she did sit down and eat the stew, eyes constantly scanning the horizon.

The cry of joy that pierced through the air had made all of them jump. “Look! Up the hill we came from, it’s her!” Elle had lept to her feet, running to catch up with Cassandra, Cullen, and Leliana, who were closer to the trail.

The whole camp went silent, seemingly everyone holding their breath, wondering if their Herald was really alive. Iron Bull watched Cullen carry Evelyn down from the hill. He had wrapped her in his own cloak, cradling her close. The whole camp came alive seemingly for the first time since Haven. Healers were called forward, swarming the unconscious Herald.

Elle never left her side.

A few hours later, Iron Bull found her sitting in the Evelyn’s tent with the Chantry Mother. Strong herbal concoctions permeated the tent from the smoking bowls that Elle had placed around her. “It opens up the airways, and every breath warms the body,” She explained, looking up at him with a tentative smile. “She’s going to be alright.” A tattooed hand reached over to stroke the wine colored curls of the human. Elle looked lighter than she had in days, the relief rolled off her in waves.

“Her color’s coming back. She’s got some crazy luck.” The admiration that Iron Bull had for the Noble mage was only growing. It was becoming more and more evident that the Herald was a force to be reckoned with.

Elle continued stroking her friend’s hair for a moment before adjusting the blanket around her. “Is there any more of that stew left?” He nodded, holding the tent flap open for her. After exchanging a few words with the Chantry Mother, he led her over to the fire. Dalish and Stitches were already there sharing a drink, instantly passing one over to Iron Bull as soon as he sat down.

With the Herald back, the Inquisition’s mood had switched from somber to wondering what their next move would be. Cassandra, Leliana, Josephine, and Cullen had already started to argue about what their next move should be.

Iron Bull listened, making notes in his head about the ideas that were thrown out. Well, he tried to listen. Elle took it upon herself to sit right next to him, and the smell of smoke, spices, and moss was distracting him more than it should have. She didn’t talk much, having finally felt the effects of denying her body food for those few days and was focusing fully on the large bowl of stew.

What happened after she finished eating was something that made Iron Bull had trouble recalling the teachings of the Qun.

Feathers entwined in the smooth blood red dreadlocks tickled the skin of his arm, silken skin pressed against his arm, long eyelashes brushed against his skin. Small, soft hands wrapped around his bicep. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.” Lips moved against his skin with every word and he felt his stomach seize up.

This felt wrong. Very wrong. The feelings that churned in him also kicked in an instinct to report himself to the Re-Educators. Not that it was something that he had the means to do, being that he was on a mission and a Darkspawn Magister just declared himself a god.

He was already making plans to start pulling away from her when he felt her nod off against his arm. She barely slept the past five days, and now that the Herald was safe, it all caught up with her. Damnit. It was like trying to stop a storm.

Krem helped him move her onto a sleeping pallet, her body limp from exhaustion and contentment from a full meal. She had slept through all the arguing, all the singing, and all the way up to the time they started moving again.

Iron Bull had made the decision to be very careful about their contact after that. He had to do it in a way that no one would suspect anything. Once they got settled in Skyhold, he resumed his usual activities of sleeping around with the serving girls or the kitchen maids, while making sure to join Elle and the others in the tavern for some laughs. He would still talk to Elle one on one like they used to, but this time he would play dumb with any flirting attempts. Giving in started to become more and more tempting, and it had gotten to the point where he would recite passages from the Qun in his head whenever she would come near him.

It didn’t help that the Chargers absolutely adored her. Dalish and her grew close, each seeing a piece of their old home within each other. Rocky and Stitches could talk to her for hours about the properties of different herbs and metal combinations, and Skinner went from eyeing her in distrust to singing drinking songs with her in a shorter amount of time than she ever did with anyone. Even Archer liked her, and she was not an easy person to win over.

Krem had taken his place next to her during the time that he found company with one of the serving girls or the barmaid. The two would laugh and tease in a banter of dry wit just like she had with the Iron Bull.

He did not like the twist that would form in his throat.

He especially did not like the knowing look Archer would throw at him whenever he felt that twist. His Ben-Hassrath Training never let his feelings show, but each time he looked over at her, her dark eyes were twinkling with knowing amusement and her smirk so wide and smug that it earned her extra training duty.

“You liiiiiikkkeee her!” Archer said in a sing song voice after Elle had bid them good night to rest up for their new mission. Evelyn gave them word that they were headed into the Western Approach to meet up with Hawke and Warden Stroud, and they had a hell of a trip ahead of them.

“Her tattoos are almost as good as mine, what’s not to like?” Iron Bull kept his tone casual, but that didn’t stop Archer.

“Oh please. If you were staring at her ass any harder, you would have burst the only eye you have left.” She darted out of reach when he tried to push her over.

He liked Archer, had since he met up with her in Tantervale when she shot an arrow right into the open mouth of a blood mage that had almost overpowered him. The Reavers of Rivain were easy enough to identify with the telltale red handprint that covered half the face, the various markings and piercings that covered her tan body, and the fact that they were skilled with bow and arrow as well as with knives. He had never met one before Archer, only heard tales of them.

She agreed almost immediately to join. The Reavers of Rivain were in the middle of a change in leadership, and Archer had no love for the new leader. She had fit in with the Chargers perfectly. Sometimes a little too perfectly, which was the situation Iron Bull had been put in.

“What? I stare at your ass too, doesn’t mean anything special.” Iron Bull was grinning at the bristled look on her face.

“My ass is fucking fantastic.” She flicked her long braid over her shoulder, the mocking prim look on her face looked ridiculous with the red handprint and lip and eyebrow piercings. “It just so happens that you find hers a little more interesting. And not just her ass. Oh no, it’s her hair, her tits, her pretty green eyes.” She fluttered her eyes in an exaggerated motion.

Usually he didn't mind her giving him a hard time when she felt like being obnoxious, but the thing with Elle was different. She hadn't finished. "You know, all of us were wondering why you didn't go ahead and make a move already. I mean, she's so your type, even a god damn redhead. She even seems to be into you." The smug look on her face intensified. "You won't do it cause you actually like her don't you?"

When Iron Bull didn't say anything, Archer casually slid into the seat, sliding him a full mug of ale. "For the record, when you start to care about someone like that, you don't run around and bed anything that moves and practically flaunt it to them. You're going to put her off right into another person's arms."

She took a long sip from her own mug."Bet it will be Krem."

Iron Bull controlled his urge to wince. "Well look at the time. You should be asleep, you have early morning drills tomorrow." He used his Captain voice and glared at the former assassin.

Archer downed the last bit of drink and slammed her mug on the table. "You know I'm right." With her long braid swishing behind her, she disappeared to the Chargers sleeping quarters.

For the first night in a while, the Iron Bull went to sleep alone.

After that night, he couldn't bring himself to pursue anyone else for a night or an hour of fun. The image of Elle and Krem getting cozy stopped him flat. The image of Elle and Sera, and especially the image of her and that Elven spy that worked for Leliana was enough to make it stop.

He had no time to gather himself and remember why he so vehemently defended the Qun on matter of intimate relationships. Elle had gotten more comfortable with all of them, and time spent with her consisted of light touches that drove him mad.

When out on missions, they would volunteer to take first watch, talking quietly while the others slept. No matter how mad he was going, he hadn’t been willing to give up that part of their relationship.

It had been one such night out in Crestwood where Iron Bull learned what few others knew about her.  
They had been showing off their scars, each trying to outdo the other by pointing at a scar and telling the story behind them and sharing a bottle of wine between them.

"I got this one fighting off two giants. I managed to bury my ax in its eye before it could finish me off."

"Thats nothing, I got this one after almost being mauled by a shark. Look you see the teeth marks!"

"Look, this one I got from a psychotic noble who used bones to make weapons. That whole thing is from a dragon's tooth."

Her fingertips brushed what felt like light bolts of electricity when they touched the scarred flesh on his shoulder. At that point, he had suspected she actually was using magic to mess with his head.

“Yours is even more impressive than mine.” She pulled her dreads over to one side, revealing a nice looking jagged scar that seamlessly blended in with her tattoos. “This one was from climbing down a tower.”

She went on about the story of how one of her runaway attempts in Nevarra, but he stopped listening. Instead, he was focused on very familiar markings on her upper arms. They were scars, and he knew that shape.

When he took her arm to inspect it in the firelight, she lapsed into silence. “This is from enchanted rope. I didn’t think they used this anywhere outside Par Vollen.” Qunari used enchanted rope on mages that couldn’t get control of their magic right before execution. It bound them and kept them from using magic or any strength to fight.

“Yea well, templars tend to be well travelled. They’re not hard to find.” Her voice was indifferent again, eyes staring determinedly at the fire.

“They used that on you?!” He had seen Elle in action, he knew she had perfect control of her magic. There would have been no reason to keep her restrained.

Her sharp full lips quirked in a sardonic sneer. “When you’re an elf with no contact with family and no one considered important, why not? After all, Templars need their amusements too.”

Iron Bull sucked in a deep gulp of air. He had suspected for awhile that someone had broken her trust in the past, but this he wasn’t quite prepared for. The argument they had many months ago when they were choosing whether to seek out the Templars or the mages flashed in his mind.

He looked at the fire, not wanting to put her on the spot. “How old were you?” His tone wasn’t demanding, and he would have accepted silence as an answer, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“It started when I was fifteen. It didn’t stop until for year and a half when I finally ran away for good.” There was a heavy silence for a minute, before she added, “There were three of them.”

He was not ignorant of the reality than many mages faced, he knew that the system wasn’t perfect. Dalish would often cite said abuses whenever she defended her choice of not going into a Circle. Fifteen was still a child. It made the whole thing harder to stomach than normal.

“Fucking bastards.” He muttered, taking a long drink from the bottle before passing it to her. He wanted so badly to look at her, but it wasn’t what she needed right then.

“Oh don’t worry. Two of them are dead.” She said it so casually and matter-of-factly that Iron Bull turned to her with a raised brow. The same bitter smile flicked across her lips. “Well you know me, have to go out with a bang.”

“Ain’t that the truth. Where’s the third one?” Iron Bull was fighting the image of a small young Elle, before tattoos and dreads, wide green eyes clean of kohl, being tied up with the enchanted rope that he himself had done to many a mage when they wanted them subdued. The thought was almost sickening that a Qunari tool was used that way.

“If he’s lucky, he died at the conclave or at Corypheus’s hands. Otherwise, I’ll find him.”

He had no doubt she would. He managed to keep his curiosity about exactly how she did it at bay, not wanting to push her. The fact that she had told him at all showed the tremendous trust she had for him.

“I tried to tell the Knight Commander, and she didn’t believe me. I hid it from everyone else. Even Evie, which wasn’t easy, we shared a room together.” She leaned back against the log, shifting a little away from him. He watched her face closely, reading the emotions she hadn’t been able to hold back.

“Evie is a noble, had I not been so scared and stupid, I would have told her. Her parents had some major sway in the Circle. They told me if I did, they would do to her what they did to me. I had to protect her. She was my only friend there.”

“You _were not_ stupid.” Elle met his eyes for the first time and he saw it all. A quiet resigned air to her past, and a flash of intense fear reflected in the pools of emerald.

Even though every fiber of his being was screaming that it was a bad idea, he moved his arm in back of the log, letting his hand drop to her slender shoulder. His entire palm covered the gentle muscles that spanned her shoulder and arm.

“I’ve liberated many elven slaves from the Vints. They went through every kind of horror and abuse you can imagine. For some, it was all they knew. When we free them, we give them the choice to live under the Qun, but we never force them. Many suffered so much that they lost themselves, lost the ability to fight. Others were so frightened that they would break down in any new situation. Then there were the fighters.” His fingers grazed the markings on her upper arms. She turned her head to look at his fingers gently move across her skin.

“These were the ones that were treated like filth, but never stopped fighting. The ones whose spirit were so strong that they could not be broken. They were the ones that stood up and made their life into something great. Seeing them made the rest of us double our efforts to put down those Vint bastards.” He had suppressed a shudder when he felt her small warm fingers intertwine with his own.

He felt her nose nuzzle gently against his fingers, causing him to swallow hard. “Thank you.”

“Hey, I’m not tellin’ ya anything new. I’ve fought with you enough to know I never want to be on the other end of that pointy stick of yours.That shit hurts.”

That laugh probably woke up at least one of their companions, but it was the last thing on his mind.

His will was crumbling, and with every touch, the Qun rang softer in his head.

 

The real turning point, the one that had finally made him give up the fight within himself happened not long after the business with the Qun alliance fell through, and he declared himself Tal-Vashoth.

Though he didn’t regret his actions, the very idea that his life under the Qun was finished had been hard to take in. He was no longer bound by the Qun, he was free to do whatever he wanted with his life. It had been too much. He wondered if this was what the Tevinter slaves felt like when he freed them.

Evelyn had actually been the one to suggest it. She came right up to the Tavern, rolled a map of the Hinterlands out in front of him, and announced that she was sick of his mood and they were going to hunt a dragon. He got so excited he lifted the delicate noble Inquisitor and spun her around, letting out a roar of excitement. Evelyn’s musical laugh filled the Tavern, and Iron Bull already announced to everyone that he would bring back the Dragon’s head.

Iron Bull, Evelyn, Sera, Elle, and Blackwall had set off to battle Fereldan Frostback in the Hinterlands. And what a battle it had been. Evelyn and Sera took care of all the range attacks, Iron Bull and Blackwall attacked head on, and Elle went between the front lines and the covering the ranks.

It was a long battle, the Dragon was ruthless and aggressive and combined with the dragonlings, they were nearly overwhelmed. There was so much blood, the air had begun to taste of it.

Iron Bull helped Elle land the final blow, and it had been the most incredible feeling in his whole life. She ran to him, used her staff to vault in the air. He caught her overhead and launched her on top to the thrashing, weaker dragon. She held her ground on it’s wide neck, raised her staff over her head pierced the dragon in the weak spot in it’s neck, sending hundreds of bolts of electricity into it’s body, shocking the last of it’s life out of it.

She slid from the dragon’s corpse, blood blending with her bright red dreads, skin sticky and coated. The thick liquid dripped from her armor, eyes wild with a crazed mix of bloodlust and exhilaration. When they locked with his eye, her pupils dilated so wide her green eyes looked black.

He wanted her. He wanted to fuck her right then, the two covered in blood on top of the dragon’s corpse. The adrenaline that coursed through his veins turned blazing hot, and the sound of everything other than his breath became muffled.

Still staring at her, he tossed his axe to the ground, stalking over to her.

When he was just a couple of feet away, Sera ran past him, tackling Elle to the ground and screaming in joy. The moment had been broken, and Iron Bull shook his head as if breaking from a daze.

Broken or not, Iron Bull couldn’t stop looking at her, laughing with Evelyn and Sera over their victory.

That was the moment he surrendered the internal battle that he had been fighting since he met her. He didn’t want to fight it, he wanted the spoils of the battle.

And nothing, not even himself, would stay in the way of that.

 

Everything that had happened led him to this moment. It was late into the dragon slaying celebration. Most were well into their cups, and many had started to retire for the night, or rather the early morning.

Elle was still at the tavern when Iron Bull excused himself. Instead of making his way to his own room, he walked up to the small tower right over the infirmary in the back of the tavern. She had chosen it specifically so no one could complain about her alchemy table and whatever experiments she does with it.

Her bed was quite literally a pile of furs stacked on top of hay. The whole room had a warm, smokey spiced scent to it that was completely Elle.

He took the time to light the fire, took off his boots, and made himself comfortable on the bed, going over in his head on what he would say when she came in.

The sound of her footsteps came soon after, a smile coming across his face as she opened the door and didn’t even seem surprised to see him there. The firelight made her tattoos pop against her sun-kissed skin, the beads in her dreads gleaming like water droplets on a leaf.

“Got lost on the way to your room did ya?” She closed the door behind her, leaning against it in that nonchalant manner she mastered.

“Na, I’m just where I ought to be. We’ve been dancing around this whole thing long enough don’t you think?” He stood up from her bed, smile still on his face. “I get it, you want to ride the Bull.”

To his delight, Elle burst out laughing. “Oh wow, do you use that line for everyone or am I just special?” Her eyes danced with a special kind of amusement and mirth that only seemed to shine when he was around.

Iron Bull just grinned, taking a few steps closer to her. “Don’t be shy, I can’t blame you for wanting a nice ride. See, I need to be sure that you know what it means you’re getting into. I don’t know if you’re ready for it.” He was in front of her, grin on his face and feeling more at peace with his next move than ever before.

His smile faltered when he saw her shoulders slump, grin coming off her face, replaced by a slightly more somber look. “I… I don’t think this is a good idea, Bull.” Her words left her heart constricted in the worst way. Her not wanting him was something he certainly didn’t take into account.

It took him only a few seconds to collect himself, grateful that her eyes weren’t focused on his face. “Yea? No pressure on my end, Elle. I don’t want you doing anything you don’t want.” The words tasted like straw in his mouth, but he refused to force her into anything.

She slipped around him, eyes focused out the window. “The thing is Bull, I like you. I like you quite a bit actually.” Her words were like cool water against a burn, relief filling him. She continued, seemingly unaware of his inner turmoil. “The problem is that once we take this to the bed, two things are most likely going to happen. The first is that I don’t have the easiest time with intimacy, and you know why. There is a good chance I’ll disappoint you. The second is that my feelings for you will most likely grow deeper. Seeing you have your fun with others after me… I don’t think I could handle that as well as I have been.” Her heard her let out a ragged breath, her shoulders squared tightly.

“So you see that’s why,” she turned and seemed slightly started that he was standing right in front her, his smile gentler than normal. “... I don’t think this is a good idea.” Her voice trailed off to a softer tone, green eyes peering up at him in question.

Iron Bull kept his eye on her face, taking another step closer. “Let’s get a few things straight. You could never disappoint me. Never have, never will.” He reached out and took her small hand in his own. “And in case you haven’t noticed, you’ve had my full attention for the last two months. I gave up on trying to get you outta my head. I’m done fighting it, done trying to not let it happen. Whatever happens from this point on is up to you. I’m right here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”

Elle’s eyes were dancing again, but there was something different about her smile. With little warning, she jumped up and wrapped her arms around his neck. He caught her easily, eagerly claiming her lips like a man starved.

Iron Bull had imagined on many occasions of it would feel to be with Elle, but something as simple as kissing her had completely eluded him. He had no idea why, because it was fucking fantastic. Her legs wrapped around him as his hands moved right to her rather ample (for an elf) behind.

He sat on her bed of furs, their lips still attached, hands exploring the other almost lazily. He scooted back and rested his forehead against hers, both breathing heavily. The smile on her face was so damn playful and hot that he was ready to forgo all his plans just to see her naked. He wouldn’t though, not with Elle. This had to be done correctly and delicately.

“Do you trust me Elle?” His hand caressed the dewy skin beneath her markings in a gentle manner.

“Yes.” She didn’t even hesitate, and that earned her a light kiss.

“Good.”

A few hours later, Elle was sprawled out on top of him, skin tacky with sweet sweat and completely passed out. Iron Bull had a hand buried in the long dreads, smiling with satisfaction.

Qunari didn’t make love. They didn’t fall in love, and they didn’t start families. But he was a Tal-Vashoth now, and when he looked at the long limbed naked Dalish Willing who just minutes ago cried out his name in a way he never heard before, he was okay with it.


End file.
